Arnold. [_He has now recovered his composure._] Where are the boys? If death be soon to come I'd gladly see them. Is it not most strange That one possessing nothing to bequeath Of all those things men covet for their sons, Should have so many? For what rank or name, Honor or fatherland, or worldly goods, All that men sweat for,--have I here to leave? Country I've none. My land was over there Where my first honors sprouted. And my boys Are foreigners,--young Englishmen--brought up Upon King George's bounty. When he bought My loyalty he took my children, too. Ben, he is dead, my eldest,--he was killed In the West Indies, fighting for the King. Sir Grenville Temple brought me back his sword. (God bless him for it!) Send and fetch down Ben's sword. [Mrs. Arnold _rings. Enter servant. She speaks to servant in dumb-show. Exit servant._] Richard and Henry, your two foster sons, Settled in Canada on royal grants. And our four sons,--your Edward, Robert, George And little William,--are all pensioners, Assisted servants of the English crown. Where are they? I must see them. It is strange That I, remembering them, can yet not think Quite plainly where they are. _Mrs. Arnold_. My dearest Lord There's fever in your cheek. The day's distress Has worked some downfall to your shattered brain, You're very sick.-- _Arnold_. The boys, I asked about-- Are they away, or here? _Mrs. Arnold_. The elder three At school and college, and our little Will Just home from school. _Arnold_. I pray you let him come; My blessings on them all must fall through him; Nor will they wait: the passage of an hour May find me gone.--Stay; there is yet one son. _Mrs. Arnold_. No, Benedict, you have described them all. _Arnold_. Ay, but there is one, born in Canada, My natural son, whose mother is no more; And yet my son,--and brother to the rest, And ever at my cost I've brought him up. I cannot leave him out. He is of age And elder than your boys. _Mrs. Arnold_. A son of yours-- _Arnold_. A natural son of mine, whose bringing up Is at my charge. I cannot cut him off. Though of my name I scanted him the curse, I ever sent him help. [_Gives her a paper._] _Mrs. Arnold_. You have done right To count him in; and I accept him, And will provide a portion like the rest Though at my children's cost. _Arnold_. Send William here: The time grows short. [_Enter servant bringing the sword which_ Mrs. Arnold _takes and gives to_ Arnold.] _Mrs. Arnold_. [_To servant._] Send Master William here. [_Exit servant. Enter_ William Arnold, _a boy of eight._]